About the Other Night
by stripesthetiger11
Summary: Grillby asks Sans to stay a little later than usual.


"O-okay, okay, so! I'm sitting at my station down in my station the next day, and Tsunderplane flies up to me…"

Any remaining titters of noise silenced itself almost immediately, listening openly to try and catch the inevitable punch line. Monsters of all shapes and sizes had come to a silent agreement long ago that no matter their mood on any night, they could always count on a certain skeleton to be there between the late hours of 12 am to 12 am to bring camaraderie to the people of Snowdin. There was no need for a stage when the world was your audience.

"And so she hands- er… wings me this hotdog that I sold her. And I look at it and I'm like, 'What's wrong with it?' And she goes, 'Sans, it's a bun filled with peanuts.'"

A snicker or even a light absurd laugh was returned by every member of the daily audience, preparing for what would surely be a worthy of the riots he had be instigating lately with his jokes. The rare sober members of the audience would need a bit more alcohol in their system to get the hilarity of the suspense. The only monster not indulging in the free laughs was the bar's owner. Silently cleaning a few glassing, he watched on as Sans took a swig of his ketchup and slammed the bottle onto the counter. The condiment gushed from the nozzle, but Grillby was sure to clean up after any mess made.

"And I go, 'Yeah. So?' She says, 'Why did you give me peanuts? I wanted a hotdog!'"

The audience now waited with bated breath, the clinking of glasses and giggles of the small crowd dying rapidly to give room to the punchline. Grillby watched behind thinly-framed glasses, more interested in the nuances of the skeleton's expressions as he paused for effect. Each small hesitation or delay seemed to convey something greater. Though the monster's smile was eternal, the fire being knew it buried many of Sans' emotion deep behind a façade. Was Grillby hurt? No; not after the initial disappointment. Should he have been a younger monster, he would have almost concluded he felt neglected in a way. After some time to think, he wondered if such a label was more suitable for the skeleton himself. Serve a patron long enough and eventually you become his best friend; the one to take a peek past the heavy stage curtains and at everything happening backstage. More often than not, it was a burden. He's a kind monster, but he'd really rather not listen to you ramble on about your debt before asking for another shot of whiskey.

"And I say, "What? I thought you liked airplane food!"

Perhaps that was what Sans had torn himself away from, Grillby concluded, listening to the crowd roar with laughter. He was pretty sure a good portion of them didn't even know what airplane food was, but it wasn't like he himself was listening. They laughed and they lauded the skeleton, but to them all he really seemed to be was a comedian. Maybe even a friend, a sentiment Sans would most likely never return. They saw what was displayed on the surface, and they actively cheered it on as they ordered more drinks.

Speaking of which.

Grillby noticed the hand shoot up near the front of the bar. Recognizing the patron, he was quick to grab a few bottles of liqueur and swiftly pour a few ounces into the short shaker and made sure to mix it up nice. He poured the drink into an iceless glass and swiftly brought it over to Flop, the female bunny who never left the bar without a good pint in her system. Even now she seemed to be stumbling over her words more than usual, indicating they were near a threshold. He set the drink down in front of her, listening to her stumble over a few words of thanks.

"This is your last drink of the night," he told her softly, giving her a small pat on the shoulder. Even though it was in his native language that really only few could translate, she had heard him say it enough to understand the gist. "Ah yer such a downer, Grillbyz," she muttered, taking a sip of her sweetened alcohol. She turned to stare at Sans with a crooked grin. Grillby flipped his tray and was about to take his place back behind the counter, when he felt a tug in his sleeve. "Hey," Flop giggled, pulling him back with a small yank. He took a step back in her direction, placing the backside of his tray at his front to signify he was listening. "You think Sans is single?" she asked, jabbing a finger at the skeleton. Grillby felt an almost nauseating wave of immediate disinterest rock his being. The bartender couldn't say he was surprised; the older monster had a reputation for putting her moves on any member of the male population in the Underground. "Well, he's at least free for the night, right?" she persisted without waiting for an answer, looking up at him with a hiccup. Grillby considered an answer— which included just walking away and not dealing with her questions —whilst looking over at the skeleton in question. Sans had taken a break from stand-up at the moment, reserving himself to chatting Bill up as he waited for another bottle of ketchup. Seeing him in such a seemingly normal state, laughing it up as he popped a fry into his mouth, he almost failed to remember the aftermath. The feigned ignorance, pretending as if nothing had ever happened that night; as if there was nothing to be had. It wasn't insulting, he'd told himself, but damn if it didn't hit his soul in a sensitive spot. He silently wondered to himself, if everyone saw what he had seen with Sans, would they still laugh at his jokes? To be encouraged such behavior almost seemed self-destructive on Sans' part. Then again, what would he know? He thought he knew Sans long ago.

Grillby turned his attention to Flop and just shrugged silently, watching her slam the drink before stumbling to get up. "Eh what-hic-ever. I'll make a go some udder time…" He gingerly helped her on her feet, leading her to the door. Before she exited, she pulled a stash of G from her inventory, just barely enough to cover the costs, and a little extra. "Some G for the best G in the world," she giggled at her own pun, stuffing it into his hands before stumbling off on her own. He watched her to make sure she safely made it down the path to her home. With that, he went back inside.

"Hey Grillbz! How about another drink?" Sans grinned, patting Bill's back with a chuckle. "Put it on my Bill!" Bill's eyes sprung open and he shook his head rapidly, pointing a wing at the bartender, who had already heard this joke before. "Don't you dare! Last time Sans just had you put all his drinks on my tab!" The only difference between then and now was how Grillby couldn't muster a reason even pretend to be amused. "You've had enough for tonight," he replied, knowing both patrons could decipher his language perfectly. Sans showed no hint of surprise, instead settling to a blank visage and letting his gaze linger on the bartender for a moment. After that fraction of a second, he swiftly turned away to pretend to be distracted by one of the dogs. Bill's reaction seemed more appropriate. "Cutting him off? What's the deal, G?" Bill complained, throwing a wing in Sans' direction. "He's barely past sober! You can't cut him off now!" Sans just tried to wave off Bill's reaction, telling him quietly it wasn't a big deal. For once he seemed to dislike the attention; for Sans to have a disliking for anything, Grillby realized, was an almost absurd notion. From drinks to ruffians to humans to thieves, nothing ever phased Sans. Well, _almost_ nothing.

Bill just sighed and looked at the time. "Eh, whatever. I got cats to feed." Pushing himself off of his seat, he quickly paid, gave his farewells, and walked out. Sans checked the time out on his non-existent watch as well. "Yeah, he's probably right," he chuckled, preparing to get up as well. "We all got places to be."

"Sans," Grillby called softly, grabbing the skeleton's attention. "I would like to speak to you afterwards," he continued, gaining only a chuckle. The chuckle grated on his patience; it felt almost mocking. "Grillbz, I love ya, but I gotta feed my pet rock."

"The one Papyrus feeds every day?" he retorted. Sans was quick with a rebuttal.

"Well Papyrus also needs a book read to him or else he can't sleep."

"I thought you said he doesn't sleep at all."

"Even still I need to sleep so I can wake up early tomorrow for-"

"Your shift starts at noon."

"What else do you think I do besides work? Gotta make a hustle selling my goods."

"Your fried snow is priced at fifty-thousand G. You are not selling anything."

"That's because I'm- You're good at this," Sans acceded. When you have drunkards spilling their guts after a good one too many, it wasn't surprising he was able to keep up with Sans. Grillby set down another bottle of ketchup for him. "After I close up. I just want to have a few words."

"You're going to keep me after just for three measly words?" Sans grinned. Grillby was more out of patience than he was amused. It was a relief that the smaller male didn't up and leave, instead distracting himself by deciding to belt out a few more puns. Eventually the rest of the patrons began to leave. The more intoxicated of the bunch received a gentle escort out of the building, whilst the more sober (the Canine Unit) gave a farewell before making it out the door.

"Aw. I didn't get to tell 'em more bone jokes," Sans sighed. He then snickered. "Doggonit." Grillby was the only one to catch onto the joke, as he was the only other monster there. He took a few moments to wipe down all the tables whilst Sans sat by quietly, playing with his bottle of ketchup. The mood seemingly hadn't changed very much; Sans still had that resting laid-back, even flippant attitude about him, even when he was the only one at the stools. Grillby had thought of many ways to bring the relevant conversation up to someone who avoids issues as well as Sans does. He came to the conclusion that the only way to go about it was to be as straightforward as possible when they were alone. Taking a moment to collect himself, he made his way back behind the bar.

"Sans," he started gently, grabbing the skeleton's attention. "Yes, that would be me," he answered with a chuckle. Grillby grabbed the broom from under the counter. "I want to talk about the other night…" he continued. The skeleton once again did not seem surprised to be on the receiving end of this conversation. "The other night?" he asked, brow furrowed in mock curiosity. "What can I say? Let's see… I went out with Papyrus to go grocery shopping… I convinced him to buy me some killer ketchup… I bumped into-"

"Sans," Grillby interrupted, gripping the broom handle tightly. With a shake of his head, he went about sweeping up some of the mess that was made. "I want you to take this seriously."

"What're you talking about?" Sans defended swiftly. "Of course I take this stuff seriously! I'll have you know that when it comes to ketchup, I only drink the best-"

"Sans."

"-in fact, you could even say-"

"Sans…"

"-I'm such a connoisseur that of ketchup that-"

"…"

"-my skills are on _fire_."

The fire monster stopped cleaning, dwelling in his own thoughts as Sans waited for any sort of response.

"Grillby… come on," Sans rasped, finally letting slip a tired rasp to his voice. Grillby recognized those words. " _Grillby, come on…_ ," Sans had whispered that night, actively trying to push away the other's hands, but failing to maintain a grip. " _It's nothing, I just…"_

"You always laugh at the fire jokes." The bartender remained silent, continuing to restrain himself as swept up small bits if dirt. "What, are my jokes not _hot_ enough for you anymore?"

"Why do I even bother?" Grillby sighed, taking his broom and pointing to the exit. "Just go, Sans." For the first time that night, the skeleton seemed to reveal a small hint of being taken aback. "Huh?" Grillby gently nudged him off of his seat with the bristles of his broom. "You heard me. Move along." He gingerly nudged the monster out of the bar little by little with the business end of his broom. "Oh come on, G," Sans chuckled at one last attempt at humor and Grillby's thinning patience. "You know how unsanitary this is? All that alcohol on the floor? You're going to make me _flame_ able!"

Grillby dropped the broom and instead lifted the startled monster by his ribcage. He gently carried him out the door and set him outside, almost shutting the door if it wasn't for Sans' hand. "Whoa whoa, don't be so _hothea_ -"

"Sans, please just leave. I'll see you tomorrow," Grillby interjected, attempting to be as reserved as possible as he once again attempted to shut the door. This time, however, Sans made the effort to place himself in the middle of path. "Okay, okay, you got me," he acquiesced, stopping Grillby's rude removal. The flame paused, surprised by the sudden change of heart, but he certainly wasn't going to deny it. Opening the door, he allowed him to continue. The smaller monster seemed hesitant to continue. "We'll talk," Sans finally agreed. "No more jokes. We'll talk. I promise." With that, the cook opened the door fully, allowing him access inside.

The next minute, Sans sat slumped in a booth, bottle of ketchup in his hand as he seemed to consider the situation as Grillby took his place across from him. The carefree attitude had clearly diminished, presenting a more subdued and, more importantly, real picture that the flame had seen the other night. He seemed to consider his situation as his phalanges messed with the nozzle of the bottle to repeatedly twist it shut. Grillby allowed for a minute of silence to let him dwell, before folding his hands. "I want to talk about the other night," he spoke softly. Sans flicked his eyelights up at him, his sockets twisted to show a more exhausted expression. After a moment, he let go of the bottle and sat back. "What's there to talk about?" he said finally, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It got late. You were closing. I was drunk. What else is there to it?" Grillby could remember Sans staying particularly late that night. He had seen no reason to cut him off; he had been laughing too hard at the string of jokes to ever really consider it. " _And so yeah, I was like, 'Only you can prevent forest fires,' and Pyrope just hit me with a straight 'fuck you dude._ '" The conversation had turned down a noticeably more private route, even if all it consisted of was jokes. "Did you regret what we did?" Grillby then asked, urging Sans to continue. Sans took even longer to answer; he was walking on eggshells at this point, just trying to find the best way to answer a question he clearly wasn't comfortable with. Even so, the matter had to be addressed.

" _I should probably go. But then who else would keep you company tonight? Heh."_

"Yeah," he answered softly. Grillby sat back, unresponsive as he allowed Sans to further explain himself. "I was just being stupid," he continued bluntly. "I let alcohol get the better of me and… I…"

"How was it stupid?" Grillby prodded. The question came off more aggressive than he had intended. He couldn't help but feel offended that Sans thought such a way. For the first time in what had to be years, the skeletons quickly became flustered, obviously trying to come up with some sort of excuse. "Grill, we're friends. You have kids. You don't need me comin' in a messin' everything up."

Grillby could distinctly recall waking up the next morning only to find that the other half of the bed was completely empty. Somehow he doubted that whatever mess Sans was referring to wouldn't compare to the mess Grillby felt that morning. "Is that why you neglected coming into the bar for the next three days? You don't want what happened between us to happen again?"

"I just don't want you to get the wrong idea," Sans answered quickly, catching the visible pullback from the other monster. Immediately his retaliation softened. "Ah c'mon, G… don't you give me that look." The flame remained mum, flame turning so as to avoid eye contact. "Look, it's not you, it's…" He threw his hand up to express his exasperation. "I just can't, okay? I'm avoidant; I don't like to get…" He waved a hand, trying to urge himself to spit it out. "Y'know… ." _Intimate._ He grasped the ketchup bottle, his voice lowering as he sat back and played with it in his hands. "You're a great guy, Grillby; it's my fault, believe me. I just… I don't want you to think we can be something." He dropped the bottle into his lap, looking up at him. "I can't do it… the way you made me feel is…" He blinked, scooting over in surprise as Grillby suddenly sat beside him in the booth. "Did I hurt you?" Grillby asked honestly.

" _Sans… are you alright?_ "

"No, no of course not," Sans explained, taking his gaze away from him. "You made me feel great, but… I can't do it again." He shook his skull. "It's nothing to do with you. I just haven't had someone make me feel that way in a—" he took a moment to pause, refusing to look at anywhere but the ketchup. He watched his finger drum along the side of the bottle, only craving a swig from habit instead of taste. "… in along time."

" _No no… it's nothing, keep going,"_ Sans had whispered, his skull ablaze with a bright blue as he attempted to wipe away leaky sockets.

Grillby gently took Sans' hand into his, gently squeezing it to comfort him. It was at this time that Sans finally let his gaze fall back to the flame monster. He let out a shaky sigh. "And people ask me why I don't date," he whispered, seemingly trying to relax himself. "It's a lotta things, Grill… I can't open up, I can't get intimate, I've just never felt this kind of…"

"Love?" Grillby finished for him, garnering a surprised look. "Oh don't say that," Sans muttered, looking away, but was pulled back with another squeeze of the hand. "That's all I ever tried to give you that night," his partner pressed on, encouraging him to not shy away. "Yeah," Sans eventually agreed. "I'm just…. I'm just not used to that." He chuckled to himself in spite of the current mood. "Now you got me feelin' like a dick for up and leaving." He rubbed away tired sockets as he gently squeezed the other's hand back. After collecting himself, he looked at Grillby straight on. "Grillby, you're great. You're _hot_ , you're food is on _fire_ , and right now you're _burning_ me up inside," he told him, earning a laugh for the first time that night. "You made me feel special and I had a great time, but I'm not ready for that sort of thing. I like you, but I just wanna stay as friends. Is that cool?"

Grillby reached reached over and scooped up Sans' other hand. "Sans, I respect you as a friend and less so as a patron who doesn't pay his tab—" this elicited a small "snrk" from the skeleton "—and I would never force you into anything you're not comfortable with or ready for." Sans' permanent grin grew slightly at his words. "I am glad to be your friend during these past years, and I'm thankful you were honest about your feelings. I enjoyed spending time with you, and I don't want that to ruin anything between us." Wisps of team and smoke drifted past where his mouth would be, seemingly overtaken by a wave of comfort from the closure. He gently pat the back of Sans' hand. "I just want you to one day become comfortable enough with yourself to find someone who makes you feel more special than I had." He gently pat Sans' hand once again to let him know he was still cared for, receiving a real smile from the skeleton. "Thanks, Grillby. That means a lot to me."

With that, Grillby pulled away, sweeping Sans from his seat and placing him beside him so he could properly wipe down the seat. Sans dug into his pocket, tugging on the bartender's vest. "Here," he offered, handing a stash of paper money over to Grillby, who seemed surprised by the offer. "This should cover everything." He headed towards the door, looking back at his friend one last time. "Thanks, Grillby. That talk was… really helpful. I mean it. Sometimes I feel like comin' here's the best medicine for me. See ya later."

Grillby watched him exit the building, his soul filled with gratitude. He placed the broom down, looking at the rather large stash of G in his hands. "Sans," he said softly to himself, "you never fail to catch me… by…" He stopped, taking a thumb and quickly flipping through the paper bills. "I'm sorry, is this board game money?"


End file.
